the night sky
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Celebrating and reminiscing, Sherlock Holmes and his close friends find themselves contemplating the night sky. And they may possibly be a tiny bit drunk! A quick, late night fic. Part of my series of stories based on daily creative prompts for May. Many thanks for reading!


**A busy last few days but I have been writing when I can. Yesterday's prompt - the night sky - took my mind back to 'The Great Game.' One night, the friends find themselves lying back, staring up at the night sky reminiscing. They may also be a little bit drunk! Hope you enjoy reading.**

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'It's gone a bit rather quiet down there. D'you think they've all gone back to their rooms?'

Ears straining, heads lifting slightly from the grassy hill, the small group turned to look back down towards the rather elegant little country hotel. It did seem as though the party had wound down; only a few lights on the terrace still bright against the dark night, awaiting their return.

'D'you know John,' and Sherlock flopped his head back down, 'I believe they may have done exactly that.'

'Good on 'em.' Greg held his almost empty champagne glass aloft as he lay his head back against Molly's shoulder. 'Such wonderful guests, weren't they.'

'Very wonderful.' Molly clinked her completely empty champagne glass against Greg's in the air.

'Maybe we should all do the same.' Mary rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow.

'Nah, it's too nice out here. Nice and peaceful.' Rolling over to join his wife, John planted on kiss on her lips.

'And so beautiful. I mean, just look up there. All those stars. You never see that many in London.' Molly said, pointing with the glass still in her hand.

'You know, I'm sure you said that once, Sherlock. To me. How beautiful it was.. or something like that.'

Sherlock nodded, as much of a nod as a person could do with their head leaning back against a grassy slope. 'I did indeed, John. We were on our way to find... someone. Tall gentleman, not very nice person.'

'Oh yes, the tall man.. what was he called.'

'The golem.' Greg tapped Sherlock on the forehead.

'Ah, yes. Thank you Lestrade. That case.'

And there came a quiet, rough laugh from Greg. 'Oh yeah! D'you know what I remember most about that case.'

'Let me guess,' Molly prodded his side. 'You couldn't wait to tell me that the genius Sherlock Holmes didn't know that the Earth went round the sun.'

And the memory brought quiet laughter from all of them.

'And that's why I don't talk about it. Very particular things for to conceal. Not my spectacular ignorance about astronomical... stuff, but the other thing, that John didn't put in pink lady blog.'

'You mean that he shot the cabbie?' said Greg.

'Huh? How did..'

'Sherlock, I am a detective...'

'Yes, I suppose you could be considered.. oww! Molly!'

'As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I am a policeman. I observed the evidence and the situation and the stuff and I worked it out.'

'Then good for you Lestrade.'

'Cheers, thanks Sherlock.' The slight sarcastic edge was not hard to miss.

'Anyway, you two,' said Molly in the conciliatory tone that she sometimes found herself using between her new husband and her dearest friend, 'we can't all know about all the stuff in the world... you know, because there's quite a lot of stuff to know. Different stuff.. things, I mean, are important to different people.'

'Diplomatically put, my love.' Greg leaned over his new wife, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

'Yeah, but does anyone actually know the names of any of them?' John propped himself back on his elbows, letting his head fall backwards so he could stare up into the night sky.

'Nope.' Mary lay her head down on his chest.

'Not a chance,' said Greg.

'Well, that's the Big Dipper.' Molly turned her finger in a little circle, in a vague direction-indicating sort of way. 'Though you know, it looks more like an upside down saucepan. Or maybe that's just me.'

'Could just be you, love.' And Greg laughed, squirming as Molly's fingers attacked his ticklish underarm.

'Ah but Sherlock'll know.'

'What? John, why on earth would I suddenly know the names, scientific or common, of any of the stars or constellation things up there.'

'Because you're Sherlock Holmes,' offered John, 'and you know everything and you're brilliant!'

'And you, dear husband, are probably a little bit drunk.' Mary kissed his forehead.

'And you my dear are not.'

'You are right of course, John.' Sherlock's voice drifted across the happily married couples.

'What? What am I right about?'

'That I'm brilliant.'

A collective groan filled the night air. Several pairs of hands started pushing against Sherlock, trying to turn him over.

'But it's true! See, directly above you if you lie down is...' Sherlock extended his long elegant fingers, in a sort of royal wave, '...a nice bright star thing.'

'Yay hey! That's our genius.' And they all finally managed to heave him onto his side and push him down the incline.

Though they couldn't all be sure, the next morning over a post-wedding breakfast Molly, Greg, John and Mary were pretty certain that they'd heard a small shriek of delight as the consulting detective tumbled down the grassy slope.

Possibly.

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**Many thanks for reading!**


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